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POEM FOR THE TIMES 



BY THOMAS GREGG, 



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NEW ERA PRINT— WARSAW^ ILLINOIS. "^ 

1864. ?2b 






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POEM FOR THE TIMES. 



BY THOMAS GREGG. 



NEW ERA PRINT— WARSAWj ILLINOIS. 

. 1864, 



TSntf 



I 



To THOSE who recognize in the lessons of 
the Past and the tokens of the Present, a 
promise of a glorious Future, for our bo- 
loved Country, — and especially to those 
heart-stricken ones, "who mourn the sacrifi- 
ces laid upon the Country's holy Altar, — 
this humble tribute is respectfully inscribed* 



RUTH: 

A POEM FOR THE TIMES- 

>| EAND-lMA EUTH, in her easy chair, 

"ft^ Sat plying her needles hright, 
t^^ While by her side lay Harry, the pet, 
^^^ In the taper's cheerful light. 
And each to her evening task there bent, 

Were Sarah, and Jane, and Sue — 
These, father and mother, John'and James, 

Composed that household true. 

Without, the broken clouds drove past, 

Beneath a moon-lit sky; 
And giant shadows, in phantom forms, 

Stalked through the forest by. 
M intervals the big drops fell, 

A -pattering on the pane — 
Borne on the tempest's fitful blast — 

The chilling April rain. 

Grand-ma sat humming a good old tune, 

And still her needles plied; 
*' Poor boy !" she said, as the little form 

Lay sleepiuiT at her side. 



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Her thoii^^its had flown to far off scenes, 

Pull many a year before, 
When she, a little bright eyed girl, 

Dwelt on Potomac's shore. 

And so she hummed her olden tune, — 

The hymn that lonij before 
She had snng so oft in the old church choir, 
. On that remembered shore. 
She hummed away, and the stitches flew, 

The needles faster plied, — 
'^Poor boy ! I wonder if he'll ever know 

How hi§ great grand pa died!'' 

And then upon her wrinkled hands 

Her head she gently leant. 
And a silver lock, from out her cap, 

In shining wavelets bent. 
Forgotten, in her spacious lap, 

Her work neglected lay ; 
Her thoughts were busy with the scenes 

Of her early childhood's day. 

Her home, her friends,— the present, all, — 

Had faded from her sight ; 
These, with their dear realities, 

Had taken wings in flight. 
The dead of eighty years before 

In magic column stood; 



The deeds of eighty years rolled on, 
In a tumultuous flood. 

The scenes of eighty years ago — 

The hamlet by the main, 
The grass-plot and the old school-house, 

Rose to her sight again. 
^^nd, O, her childhood's early home, 

TTow vividly it came ! 
The well, the grove, the rippling rill, — 

The same, ah ! still the same ! 

Still in that home in loveliness, 

Each form transfigured stood ; 
The mother, in her modest robes-— 

The beautiful, the good. 
The sister's easy, gentle grace, — 

The brother's manly form, — 
The father— idol of her heart,— 

The babe, with li}' so warm. 

She thought of him, her father dear, — 

Jlev glory and her }>ride ; 
[Inw, at his: Country's call he went, 

And for his Country died I 
And those after years of agonv, 

Of ) enur\^, an 1 of pain, 
JSow, in l»or second childhood's hour, 

^ho lived all o'er a-L'aiii. 



a 



Sho stood with him on battle fields 

Stained xed with human gore, 
And with him trod, through wintry blasts, 

Full many an ice-bound shore ; 
She marched with him, for weary months, 

On many a hard campaign — - 
With bleeding feet and sun-burnt brow. 

Through storm, aud snow, and rain ! 

On Bunker's Heights with him she stood, 

And then at Bennington ; 
With him his baltlos nobly fought,— 

With him his victories won I 
On Saratoga's gory plain — 

At Princeton's well-fought field, — 
She saw the fooman bite the dust — 

She saw the foeman yield ! 

She saw again that brother bold, 
^ When captured by the foe j 
She saw that sister's flowing tears — 

That mother's deepest wo j 
Because he would not bend the knee, 

And Freedom's Cause deny, — 
Because he would not to King-Craft bow, 

They led him forth to die ! 

That father once again appeared, — 
As, when at even -tide, 



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The battle's bloody contest o'er, 
Down near the brooklet's side 

They found him — dead, and stiff, and pale ; 
From many a LThasiiy wound 

His blood had flown in livid streams, 
And crimsoned o'er the ground. 

Thus Grand-ma sat — But, hark, a sound ! 

The cannon's deep-toned roar 
Breaks in upon their solitude, 

And swells along the shore ! 
The News of Sumter !r— like a shock, 

Has startled all the land ! 
The Deed of Sumper ! black and foul ! 

Has nerved each Freeman s hand! 

Full long the Southern breeze had borne 

Defiance on its wings. 
And loyal hearts full long been filled 

With grave imaginings. 
One thought now fills each patriot breast^ 

One impulse fires each soul — 
The desolating scourge of war 

Must o'er the Traitor roll ! 

'^Go forth ! " the aged woman spoke— 

Her grand sons at h >r side ; 
^' Go forth ! 't was in just such a cause 

My good old father died ! 



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Gird on your armor, boys, and go ! 

Be valiant in the fight ; 
Your Country calls her loyal sons 

To Battle for The Eight ! 

'^ That Fla^', which nearly fourscore years, 

Has floated o'er the land, 
jSInst not lie trailing in the dust. 

By cowa'^d traitors' hand ! 
Go, boys I and l-ear that banner liigh ! 

Your Country's call obey ! 
The blood of Revolutionary sires 

Must show itself to day ! " 

And there went out unnumbered hosts — 

Poured forth stout-hearted men 
From every sunny hill -side home — 

From every mountain glen. 
And, marshalled on a hundred fields, 

Were heroes marching on ; 
And bristling bayonets flashed their light 

Beneath each morning sun. 

From where Penobscot pours his flood — 

By Saco's rushing tide — 
From Susquehanna's fertile vales — 

Where Hudson's waters glide ; — 
From Mississipj'i's sounding shore— 

From Ohio's placid wave,— 



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Hushed forth a thousand valiant bands, 
The Nation's Life to save ! 

With sword and mnsket, lance and steel, 

They gird them for the fi(>'ht ; 
They co— in Heaven's name; to wage 

The Battle of the Eight ! 
They go —to teach the traitor hoi'des 

The majesty of T>nw ! 
They go — and at their martial tread 

The Nations stand in awe ! 

The plow is left to rust its share — 

The reaper lieth still ; 
Uncared, the cattle rove the fields, 

And silent stands the mill ; 
And peaceful skies look down from where 

The smoke of steamer rose, 
And plain, and vale, and hillside home, 

Lie wrapped in deep repose. 



Three years have past ! and grand-ma's form 

Is bowing to the grave ; 
And James and John, those stalwart boys, 

Sleep 'neath Kanawha's wave ; 
And thousand true hearts, such as theirs 

Have poured their richest blood 



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To mingle with the Hatteras sanci8, 
Or tinge Tal'hatchie's flood. 

And on a. hundred battle plains 

Dead corses bleeding lie, 
And maimed and sickened foemen writhe 

Beneath the arching sky. 
And twice ten thousand widowed wives 

Ave left to mourn their fate ; 
And thrice ten thousand happy homos 

Are rendered desolate ! 

And War, the Demon, drives his car 

O'er ]jlain^ and hill, and dale ; 
And Carnage ulnts his thirst for blood 

In many a sunny vale. 
And Wrong, and Hate, and Treason, still 

Their flaunting flag furl wide ; 
And bold Defiance, blind with rage. 

Strikes out on every side ! 

Rut God, who sends the earthquake's shock, 

The tempest's fiery wi-ath, 
And ))id8 the dread sirocco bring 

Destruction in its jath, — 
Will m'c thi' Kvi! .'till for Goody 

.\nd heal the Nation's wo I 
1.0 I now Mgainsi the curtained East, 

See ' Ske I THE ?'toMr>i:-r5ow I 



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Grand-ma, as in that April night; 

Sits by the chimney place ; 
And, as before, her wrinkled hands 

Still shield her aged face. 
She musing sits. But visions now 

Of future prospects rise ; 
Tui^ned from the Past with grief away^ 

She scans the Coming Skies. 

She musing sits. For her no more 

Potomac's waters run — 
"No more for her the Bine Eidge peaks 

Smile 'neath the morning sun. 
No more the strife of Shiloh's fight — 

The blood at Malvern Hill,— 
Or carnage on a hundred fields, 

Her mind with horrors fill. 

But far away, on Time's broad sea. 

The opening years uprise ; 
Whose rolling waves, in vistas clear^ 

Blend with th' encircling skies. 
The vistas sweep around — expand — 

The shadows roll away ; 
The golden tints of morning burst 

,lnto effulgent day. 

A vast expanse looms up to vie.v I 
From Equatorial sea. 



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And from Atlantic's surge^ to where 

Pacific's waves roll free ; 
O'er plain and mountain, lake and vale, . 

O'er pebbly-margined river, 
The beams of Peace triumphant smile, 

And Freedom's sunbeams quiver ! 

No more the wail of wo is heard — , 

No more the clank of chain — 
No more the dusky bondmen bow 

Beneath their load of pain. 
No more the traitor dares to act 

A parricidal part, 
Nor reaches forth his bloody hand, 

To strike the Nation's heart ! 

But Plenty, Joy^ and Love, abound! 

Schools, Churches, Cities, rise ! 
The hum of Industry ascends, 

And echoes through the skies ! 
And Man stands forth, at length, redeemed 

From power of brother Man ; 
And Equal Rights is writ anew, 

Ju God's ETE2,^■AL Pla^ I 



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